


Wings

by thecraplan



Category: DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: FirstPov, M/M, Romance, mildly dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 17:58:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12114144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecraplan/pseuds/thecraplan
Summary: If Mizuki and Koujaku were together in the original storyline.





	Wings

**Author's Note:**

> give the firstpov perspective some credit.

Wings

You're so beautiful. You know that? Your eyes were dull. Your irises, filled full with warm, sensual honey.

You had the slimmest figure I have ever seen, clothed in red and black leather. The studded belt did nothing to hold your jeans in place, they wrapped lowly on your hips.

There would always be this thin, tender smile plastered on your face, not truly real, yet not entirely fake either. But your nose would curl, and your high cheekbones rise even more. The visible tattoos on your skin seemed to glow in the dark.

  
I always wondered, what the teardrop mark on your face implied. Did you cry a lot? I remember, watching you from a table away, as agile hands pour and create drink after drink for eager customers who itch to spend even a few seconds with you.

I don't know if you ever knew, but as you whipped up a blue lagoon for one of the ladies, you'd hang on to every one of her words and I would hear your low voice reply quietly through the music blaring through the speakers.

Amiable, that was the word I decided on to describe you best. Yet contradictory, your body frame would be stiff behind the bar, as if being that friendly was forcing something out of you. To me, you were like some kind of angel, with broken wings. I know it sounds cheesy, but really, that's what you were.

There was once you gazed over for a second, and in the haze of neon lights and dark purple corners, your eyes glowed. You were free at the bar, so I guess that was why you raised your hand to give me a wave, and a small smile that I probably imagined being different from the other smiles you gave.

Though, when I finally gained the courage to go over to you, the first thing my muddled mind blurted out was "you have nice hair." And goddamn did I regret it. I didn't want you to think that I was some lunatic hair enthusiast.

But you were as amiable as I predicted, and my heart got electrocuted when you laughed. It was such a ordinary chuckle, yet it sounded so pure. You thanked me, offered me a drink and I felt like a high school girl getting her first date.

From then on, I would always be at the left corner of your bar, sipping a drink you made for me, listening to you talk with calm, gentle hand gestures when you were free of customers.

A month over later and I confessed, in a drunken manner, one hundred percent repentant.

With a fizzed out mindset, I somehow still remembered the shock on your face, where your features all blanked out for a second, where the tanned exposure of your neck tightened cordially.  
"Do you love me?"

  
I didn't wait for your reply though, I simply pulled you in for a kiss. Your throat hitched, I could hear it, but all my senses diluted when you slid your lips over mine to lock them entirely.             They fitted perfectly. They were such soft lips, and the chasteness of it radiated an innocent romance I never knew I was capable of having.

My hand raised up to rub your neck, fingers curling into the untameable strands of hair at the nape. My other hand would rest on your slender waist. You were like glass, on the brink of shattering, having been created so intricately.

  
I love you.

  
Your shapes, I remembered them all. Absolutely gorgeous. That amazingly talented hand fitted perfectly in mine, and it was so, so smooth.

What I loved best, was when we spent actual time together, not with the friends we made from each other, or the casual interactions when we somehow met at work, but when brilliant lights would blind our eyes, and our hearts felt like the oceanic abyss.

  
The one night I wouldn't forget - was bathed in turquoise and street lights. We broke in to cheap theatres to steal their limited edition photographs, walked on the hoods of neatly parked cars because they made us feel higher, and sat against railings lining the width of the river, watching the dark cityscape of Mediocrity ripple into the water. I remembered, we were happy.

You were laughing and it was real. I brushed your hair from your eyes and stole a kiss. You had a sugar-sweetened smile on your face, showing your white teeth for once.

I couldn't remember when it all stopped escalating, when it started to stop and strain. It was slight, but I never would have guessed. Guessed that you were in all this intolerable pain. That every smile was forsaken.

It hurt, because I wanted you to know that I loved you, and wanted you to trust in me, enough to tell me even your deepest sorrows.

Why, I could never ever get the image of you from that night, at your rawest, letting me in. My arm rested on your shoulders that night, and even when we fell asleep right there by the pathway, with crushed drink cans in front of us. It was alright, because you radiated such warmth.

There was this other moment in our lives, do you remember? When I pushed you on the bed in some casual motel. You were laughing the whole way through. Even when you locked you ankles around my thighs and gave yourself to me, to the pleasure, you still looked extremely happy. You were so alluring in your expressions, even when you pulled me in for a plain, bare kiss on the lips.

  
I felt the smile on those lips. And I fell in love all over again. I remembered, how you tightened around me, and I couldn't find the right amount of oxygen to breathe properly.

You were my saving grace.

Then suddenly, you disappeared, as if you were a figment of mind. I couldn't find you. Did you know? My heart was beating to its death. Every moment of living, I spent looking for you. But don't worry, I took care of myself, earning enough to live through the month I searched for you.

  
Then Aoba found you, we all did, and everyone's prime concern was him, because he was unconscious, and when I looked up, they had hauled you away. But the glimpse of your closed eyes and limp features made me wonder exactly who you were.

I decided, you were just in a deep sleep, and that was what made the light I fell for so dull and so, broken.

You, with your auburn hair damp from the rain and such a peaceful expression made me succumb to the idea that it was an incident, that you were one hundred percent fine.

But then Aoba kept saying he broke your conscience, he broke it, he broke it, and it took me days to find out what he meant. I was so shocked, my mind was glitching, restating the phrase 'your conscience was broken' in an electronic dial tone.

  
I wanted to go to you immediately. But in that period of time, our community was about to be entirely brainwashed by the fucking bastard who turned you into his puppet, and I knew that if it were you, you would save the whole world over yourself. And Aoba needed all the help he could get to turn this nightmare into another bad dream in one short night.

So I helped fight, and you would know, we succeeded. It was all peace and quiet with Toue suiciding for reasons I don't care for.  
I found you.

Aoba was visiting his brother, his twin brother, and also his allmate? I had no idea. In fact, thinking of myself trying to explain it you makes it even more hilarious.

But that's not the main thing, the main point was that you were in that same hospital. And I finally managed to speak with a doctor. He told me you took brain damage. Really horrible, absolutely disgusting mush, graphically, had been inflicted on your mind.

It was like amnesia, but not caused by simple accidents.

While you were in a coma, I took the chance to watch over you. I didn't do much really, just spending the day looking out the rather large window of your hospital room. Or sometimes, I would untangle your hair, because I'm a hairstylist for a reason. I knew that when you woke up, I probably wouldn't be able to be this close to you. I traced the pale ink of the teardrop mark on your cheek.

  
Amnesia is a painful thing, but I told myself that if I ever felt pain of you forgetting us, I'll just remember how you smiled the first time our eyes met.

  
You were my saving grace. All the past childhood memories that haunted me even to this day would crumble and disintegrate away.

"I love you."  
Over the course of your coma, I went to find out exactly what happened. Morphine was a closed up, secretive Rib team. I couldn't find out much.

But the amount of information I managed to gather was good enough.

Toue was destructive. He was a total monster, buried from top to toe in his need for overwhelming power. He hurt you, your team, and so many other people, ruined all their minds. He wiped the smile from your face, turned you into a soulless puppet for his usage.

And the group you were influenced to join? Morphine? They just disappeared after Toue died. Apparently the had connections with him in ways I would rather not speak about.

  
I have no idea if Dry Juice will ever be the same Rib team it once started out as, and I know you would be heartbroken to hear it, so I won't say anything. Though the day your memory returns (which I hope is soon), I imagine that you would run your fingers down your neck and press lightly at the bandages covering your over-inked neck.

It does sadden me to think that I can no longer caress the curve of your neck, but more so that you become so vulnerable because of that fragile spot. But Mizuki, it's okay, I can hold you close and keep you safe.

You know, you worried too much. You worried too much for the good of everyone around you forgot about yourself.  
\---  
When you woke up finally, I guess three months later, a nurse rang me up and I expect that's where your memory probably picks up.

I brought you flowers. I wasn't sure if you liked peonies, but hey, be grateful you amnestied idiot.

I remembered you were staring out the window, and that expressionless look on your face really stabbed me. You looked up when the door opened, and you stared at me with these glazed-like eyes that had long lost their warmth.

  
But I held it in, all the anguish I probably felt in that one second of looking at you, piled a mountain in my soul. But all I did, was set the flowers on the nearby table and pulled a chair to sit beside your bed.

My throat was choked up, so I figured gesturing what I wanted to say was ideal. So I raised my index finger and drew a smile on my lips. It took a moment, but there, you started to smile, a thin, hollow smile. But it was good for a start.

  
Seeing a smile on your face, brightening up your features like when I first saw you, made me feel lighter, almost as if I lost a few pounds. You were alive (again).

  
"I'm sorry, I forgot about you."  
You said as you raised your hand out. I took it, let my fingers wrap around your wrist and smiled.

"We can start again."

 

so beautiful.

 

 

 

I love you. I love you.I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.I love you. I love you.I love you. I love you. I love you.     I loved you.   I love you. I love you.  
Broken angels, can somehow start to fly.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading <3


End file.
